


Muse

by Liliriu



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works, The Thing on the Doorstep - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Angst, Cruelty, M/M, No Sex, Nude Modeling, Rejection, painting porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27049486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliriu/pseuds/Liliriu
Summary: As the artist prepared his palette and considered which brushes to use, the young muse carefully removed and folded his clothes, stretched, and tried lying in different spots of the studio, accustoming himself to this shared nudity state.“Dan…” he called with his quiet, childish voice, though he had already reached sixteen.“Mm…?” asked the painter distractedly, absorbed in the mixing of linseed oil and turpentine.“Make me pretty.”Daniel could hear the smile in his voice.Warnings: homophobia, cruelty, moderate violence, underage nudity.
Relationships: Edward Derby/Daniel Upton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Muse

As the artist prepared his palette and considered which brushes to use, the young muse carefully removed and folded his clothes, stretched, and tried lying in different spots of the studio, accustoming himself to this shared nudity state.

“Dan…” he called with his quiet, childish voice, though he had already reached sixteen.

“Mm…?” asked the painter distractedly, absorbed in the mixing of linseed oil and turpentine.

“Make me pretty.”

Daniel could hear the smile in his voice. He slowly rose his head, and his heart skipped a beat. Edward not only was smiling, but looked surprisingly glorious in his nakedness; his figure much slimmer and his skin much smoother than the painter was previously aware of. “Don’t you worry,” he said, and smiled back, “now let’s try some poses.”

After some try-ons, Daniel chose the position in which Edward would model, and proceeded to mix the adequate shades: brilliant rose and flake white for his skin, alizarin crimson lake for his lips, dark ultramarine violet and cobalt blue turquoise for his eyes, raw amber, italian earth and aureolin for his hair. Those would do for now. He made but a quick sketch with charcoal, since the lovely colors and textures as presented in front of his eyes were suggesting enough by themselves, seemingly impatient to reincarnate over the canvas. He dipped a brush into the solvent, diluted the sensuous pink mixture, and started to lay down the base for Ed’s graceful skin.

“And yet… he does need to get some sunlight,” thought Daniel, suddenly sorry amidst his joy, as the boy was too pale and too thin. He needed to run around the grass, eat wild berries, build fat and muscle and get some rose over his cheeks. His poet’s hollow, painfully beautiful cheeks. The friend in Daniel wanted the boy to get out, but the artist in him enjoyed his being locked in – it made him _look good_. He liked the protruding ribs and gaunt arms, the paper white complexion and dark purple shadows surrounding those deep, thoughtful eyes.

“Think about your poems,” he instructed.

“Why,” asked the model, dryly.

“Just do.”

“Fine…”

This caused the desired effect: Edward’s dark blue eyes half closed in a dreamy manner, and his juicy red lips curled into a minuscule smile. What was he thinking about? Probably not butterflies and sunlight over the grass. As he knew the boy, the most likely were gibbous moons or cyclopean buried ruins.

He was perfect.

For a few hours, Daniel almost ran amok; he painted rabidly and desperately, until the canvas was far too humid, and he as his model far too tired, to allow a productive continuation for the rest of the day.

The painter studiously examined his progress; while he was quite pleased, there were some spots which needed to be fixed, and he calculated that the whole project would take at least two or three more sessions to be fully complete.

He felt the small fingers faintly touching his shoulder, and turned his head back to the boy. Edward, too, was examining the painting, and looking satisfied. “It is beautiful, Dan…” His smile was bigger now, and his cheeks did go rosy. “It really is, and it’s almost done…”

Daniel could feel his heart racing. He reminded himself that the boy couldn’t hear it. “I still have some work,” he said, “you’ll also have to work a bit more, if we want this to be finished.”

Edward dug into Daniel’s collarbone in a nervous, insistent motion. “But you know that I don’t mind posing for you, as much as you need…” He froze for a moment. He slowly, tentatively, caressed the artist neck with one finger, “you’re so good…” he said. He got even closer, and the painter could almost feel the marble texture of his chest. Ed whispered to his ear, “so good to me…”

The artist watched the boy’s full crimson lips approaching his own, closer, pressing them as more slender fingers joined to caress his neck, and sunshine hair locks ethereally hovered over his cheek. He felt his lips part, allowing the entrance of his muse’s wet tongue.

It was warm, it was dark, it was soft. And it was revolting.

With a quick, sharp movement Daniel broke the kiss and loudly slapped the boy. “How could you?!” he asked, infuriated, “how could you misinterpret my love for you in this way?!”

Edward just stared at him.

“This is an abhorrent behavior. This is not the way your parents raised you. Consider yourself lucky that you’re just a child and that I am your friend, so this time, I will shut the fuck up and not tell your father.”

He turned to leave the room, slamming the door after him and ignoring the neglected painting materials, as well as the tears running down Edward’s eyes.


End file.
